


Special

by littlenyao



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Drinking, M/M, Past Drug Use, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28352184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlenyao/pseuds/littlenyao
Summary: On the night before the Lost Light departs for its quest, Ratchet and Wheeljack take the opportunity to reminisce over drinks. Knowing that Drift will be on the ship as well, Wheeljack reminds his old friend through a few stories that Ratchet really does need to address his unstable four million year old relationship with Drift, whether that resolves to a better working relationship, a friendship, or something more.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet, Ratchet & Wheeljack (Transformers)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	Special

There was a hill that looked over the plain that once held Rodion. In the daytime, the expansive Deltaran Medical Facility dominated a skyline defined by glistening metal city towers intent on hiding its dirty underbelly. At night, the towers sparkled with lights seen even from starships on final approach to the distant Iacon spaceport. Millenia ago, many of the medical staff came to this hill to discuss the day’s cases, avoiding the more popular (and more rowdy) Maccadam’s New Oil House. Rumor had it that Ratchet held court there as one of the dominant voices in the conversations, only equaled by his good friend Pharma. If asked, however, Ratchet would dismiss it, saying it was a circle of equals. 

It was here Ratchet had agreed to meet Wheeljack the night before the _Lost Light_ departed on its quest. Driving up and transforming, he pulled out a picnic basket and sat down on the newly reformatted ground. He sighed. Rodion was gone. The DMF, Maccadam’s, his illegal clinic in the Dead End, all gone as if they had never existed at all. He hadn’t even been sure the hill would still exist, but the recent planetary survey showed that it had just barely survived. 

Ratchet didn’t have to wait long. He had known Wheeljack for so long that he recognized the signature sound of his friend’s engine driving up the hill and pulling up beside him. After a long pause, Wheeljack said, “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to it just being… gone.” 

“Yeah, I think I preferred all of the falling buildings to _this_.” Ratchet pulled his basket over and opened it. “Here, I brought some rare commodities.” 

Wheeljack transformed into robot mode, sat down, and picked up one of the bottles. “How did you hold on to some of this stuff? _Steel Comforts?_ This is pre-war, Ratchet. Have you been holding out on me for four million years?” 

“You of all people ought to know by now that I am nothing _but_ hidden compartments. Didn’t think I’d have to stow it for this long.” Ratchet took the bottle from Wheeljack, poured a glass for each of them, and held it aloft. “To the end of the war.” 

“To the end of the war. May no one ever have a war this long again.” 

“Don’t count on it,” Ratchet said, taking a sip along with Wheeljack. They sat there for several minutes taking in the empty view. 

Wheeljack finally broke the silence. “So why in the Pit are you going on this crazy quest? This of all things doesn’t sound like you.” 

Ratchet sighed as he felt the drink in his hand shake. He held it up in front of Wheeljack. “My hands are failing.” 

Wheeljack’s optics brightened. “How long has this been going on?” 

“A few years, maybe more. It happened so slowly I didn’t notice.” Ratchet took a big gulp of engex. “Well, that, and the war.” 

“Did you want me to take a look at them? I could--” 

“No.” 

“Right.” Wheeljack put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Ratch…” 

Ratchet sighed. “Nothing to be done about it except find a successor. Pharma’s at Delphi. I might convince Rodimus to swing by there on the way.” 

“Your old buddy?” 

Ratchet looked into the distance. “Yeah.” 

“Did you see that Drift was going as well?” 

Ratchet, in the middle of a drink, glared at him. “Yeah, _and_ …?” 

“Well, I thought maybe this would also be a good chance for you to resolve things with him after all this time. You two have only been circling each other for four million years.” 

Ratchet frowned. “What is there to resolve? I rescued him from a syk overdose, he became a Decepticon with guns, he became an Autobot with swords, and then he had a brush with death and became a tryhard spiritualist with annoying catch-phrases.” 

“Wait, when did _that_ happen?” 

“When he woke up in the medibay claiming he was ‘touched by Vector Sigma.’” Ratchet motioned with his signature air quotes. “He went from being aloof to awakened faster than it takes Blurr to complete the Iacon Classic.” 

“See, that’s exactly it, right there! Why does he annoy you so much?” Wheeljack poured another glass for himself and took a drink. “I’ve seen you deal with all of those things with a mere grumble or an exaggerated optics roll. But Drift is different.” 

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear your hypothesis on this one,” Ratchet grumbled through his drink. “And it better not blow up at the end.” 

“You remember when we were trapped in that base deep under Iacon? Where I got blown up by my own experimental gun?” 

“I think you’re going to have to be more specific. There’s three -- no four -- times that happened.” 

“It was the first time you met Deadlock.” 

“Ah.” 

Wheeljack laid back on the hill, drink still in hand. “But you tell it the way you remember it, and I’ll fill in any gaps afterwards.” 

Ratchet finished his drink, refilled his glass, and finished that drink as well. 

* * *

“Ratchet, you alive?” 

Ratchet, his hands still whirring frantically inside Wheeljack’s damaged chest, opened a response to the Autobot frequency. “Yeah, Jazz, I’m still here.” 

“You’ve got some unfriendly patients heading towards your clinic. You closing up anytime soon?” 

“Almost done. Give me ten minutes or so.” 

“You’ve got five.” 

Ratchet paused just long enough to bring his pistol closer. “Acknowledged.” Going back to his work, he didn’t even look up when the door burst open. “If you want service, you’ll have to get an appointment. I’m kind of busy.” 

“I don’t do appointments, doc.” The voice sounded familiar, but then again, a lot of voices did after millions of years. 

“Tough. I need to complete these connections or he’ll die.” 

Ratchet felt the Decepticon getting closer, sensing the gun pointed at him. He reflected briefly on why he hadn’t been shot yet. 

“I could kill you and then you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.” 

“And I’d be dead if you wanted me dead. So, _look_...” Ratchet closed up Wheeljack’s chest a bit harder than intended, looked up, and suddenly felt all of the annoyance drain out of him. 

“Drift?” 

Ratchet swore he saw a very brief flash of emotion cross the Decepticon’s face before it went back to its default menace. He also realized the three of them were alone. 

“Deadlock.” 

The Decepticon was indeed holding a very large rifle pointed straight at Ratchet’s helm. 

“ _You’re_ Deadlock?” exclaimed Ratchet. Rumors spoke of a mysterious elite Decepticon warrior, and while Ratchet had seen his handiwork in the morgue more times than he cared to, he knew that no one, except maybe Prowl, knew who he was. Suddenly, the world felt very heavy and very blurred. 

“Get a job with the Functionists, you said.” Deadlock laughed angrily. “Only a member of the privileged would say something like that.” 

Ratchet’s optics dimmed. “And what was I supposed to do that I wasn’t doing already? It was hard enough getting enough supplies for legal clinics, not to say anything about the illegal one I had to work very hard to keep under wraps!” He stepped out from behind the table and right into Deadlock’s face, pushing the gun aside. “It was a sight better than the Reclamation Clinic you were going to!” 

“Says the doctor with everything handed to him,” Deadlock growled. “Says the doctor who has never once been told that he can’t do something simply because of his alt-mode, even with all the evidence to the contrary. Says the doctor who has never had a Functionist look down on him and see not a person but a frame!” 

“You haven’t answered my question! How else was I supposed to save lives within a broken system?” 

“If you had shut up for once and listened to us, you would have known!” 

“I…” Ratchet sighed. He looked back up and could have sworn Deadlock’s face had shifted from anger to sadness. 

A very weak voice spoke up from behind them. “You going to take us prisoner or continue this very awkward conversation?” 

Ratchet grimaced. “Jackie…” 

Deadlock briefly closed his optics, took a long breath in, and sighed. “My team is doing their final sweep in the weapons lockers now. I saw an exit door on my way in. If you hurry, they won’t catch you.” 

Ratchet’s jaw almost dropped. “You’re letting us go?” 

After another awkward silence, Deadlock said, “Just get out of here.” He helped Ratchet lift Wheeljack on to his feet and then went to check the door. Signalling them it was clear, he watched the hallway while Ratchet helped Wheeljack into the exit door. 

Ratchet turned halfway around. “Why?” 

Deadlock didn’t look at Ratchet for a minute but then met his optics. “Because you _did_ try when no one else would.” He sighed, betraying a rare serene smile. “Go. Get out of here.” 

Ratchet nodded. “Thank you.” He stumbled out the exit with Wheeljack propped on his shoulder. 

* * *

Ratchet took another drink, parched from telling the story. “There. Happy?” 

Wheeljack’s faceplate shifted into what Ratchet knew was a wry smile. “Oh it was accurate, but you left out a part.” 

“Oh? Enlighten me.” 

* * *

After escaping through the exit, they met up with Jazz who escorted them to a safehouse filled with energon and medical supplies. After making sure that Ratchet was settled in to finish his repairs on Wheeljack, he left to scout the area. 

“So, what happened between you two?” Wheeljack asked. 

“I’ll tell you, but only because you’ve helped so much in the medibay that you’re practically a doctor.” Ratchet closed his optics briefly. “He was a patient of mine in the Dead End before the war. Saved him from a syk overdose, which can be a pretty brutal experience. So I told him he was special and that I wanted him to prove me right.” Ratchet finished up a weld on Wheeljack’s arm. “I guess _that_ backfired.” 

Wheeljack shrugged as he moved his newly repaired arm. “Not in the sense that he just let us go. I mean, you did fix up a vulnerable, impressionable kid off the streets and told him he was special as soon as he woke up. Poor Drift probably got a really hard crush on you that day.” 

Ratchet gestured angrily, welder still in hand. “I can’t control how he interprets what I say!” 

“Hey, easy, Ratch…” 

“I just…” Ratchet sighed. “I just need a few minutes alone.” 

Wheeljack slipped down from the exam table. “Alright.” He went to find Jazz, leaving Ratchet alone in his thoughts. 

* * *

Ratchet frowned. “I remember that conversation. I don’t see how it adds anything to the story.” 

“You don’t…” Wheeljack pinched his nose. “How could you be so oblivious?” 

“ _What?_ I was upset that one of my patients joined the Decepticons, especially that he turned into Deadlock.” 

Wheeljack sat up and pointed at Ratchet. “No, it was more than that. _Way_ more than that. In all of the millenia I’ve known you, you’ve never reacted like that.” He sighed. “Remember that story you told me about the first time you met Thunderclash in medical school?” 

“You mean how I was failing out because I partied too much?” 

“Yeah, that one. You didn’t even _want_ to become a doctor. You hated the fact that you were forced into it because you were an ambulance. Most of us hated it, but you took it to extremes. Remember telling me about the engex-laced, all-night, trance parties every weekend? The dangerously fast races across the Asphalt Plains? The promise to yourself that you would find someone special and take them to Hedonia for a thousand years just so you could experience all of life’s pleasures? It was Thunderclash who finally clued you in that you were trying to find an easy escape instead of actually trying to change the world for the better so you could experience those things for years to come.” 

“What does this have to do with Drift?” 

Wheeljack took another sip. “Let me tell you another story. Maybe that will clear things up.” 

* * *

“Alright, line up, all of you!” Ratchet directed the new arrivals into the cramped quarters of his hastily built medibay. “We don’t have much here, but I can at least check you over after that nasty crash. Kup, I don’t care if you’re Primus himself, you’re first!” 

“Come on, Ratchet, you know my crew comes first!” 

“And I’ll get to all of them, I promise. It’s just that none of them are in serious enough condition to go first, and you’ve had a rough time of it lately.” 

“Bah…” Kup shifted his cygar from one side to the other of his mouth and bit on it. He clamored up onto the table for his exam. 

Ratchet leaned in to look at a crack on Kup’s arm. “Looks like a minor laceration, but I want to get a scan just in case to make sure. Go and sit under the scanner over there. Wheeljack, can you set it up?” 

Wheeljack placed a partially repaired nanite injector down on the workbench. “No problem.” 

Kup sat there grumbling and watched as his troops, one by one, entered for their checkup and left with minor patches. By the time that Ratchet had finished up with a broken servo on Roadbuster, the scanner beeped and Ratchet came over. 

“Okay, that’s good, no major structural damage.” Ratchet ran a small welder over the biggest crack and stood back. “Alright, Kup, all done.” 

“Finally.” Kup got down off the table but stopped when Drift walked in. Wheeljack couldn’t help but notice Ratchet freeze. Drift was followed strangely by Prowl, who leaned on the wall next to the scanner. 

Kup gave Prowl a look. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m observing your new recruit. I admit, your hiring techniques are rather… unique.” 

“Listen, you young _punk_.” Kup leaned into Prowl’s face. “He’s here as a Wrecker, and last I checked, all Wreckers are Autobots. And if anyone, especially you, has a problem with it, they can go through me.” 

“And if you two don’t take it outside, you’re going to find my _firing_ techniques to be even more unique,” Ratchet said in a disturbingly calm voice. As they left, Kup grumbled and Prowl smirked. Ratchet rolled his optics and then softened his gaze as he started scanning Drift. 

“Good to see you again, Ratchet,” said Drift. 

“Likewise.” Ratchet reached up to touch a minor scratch on Drift’s armor. Drift flinched almost imperceptibly, but Ratchet noticed and paused, hovering right above the metal. They looked at each other for a moment, broken only by Drift relaxing and allowing the armor to touch Ratchet’s hand. Ratchet glanced around to see not only the two swords at Drift’s waist but the Great Sword perched on his back. “You’re doing swords now?” 

Drift nodded. “I wield them as a knight of the Circle of Light.” 

Ratchet’s optics flickered. Wheeljack made a choking sound. Ratchet slowly looked at Drift stoically perched on the exam table. “The Circle of Light,” he said flatly. 

“Yes. They rebuilt me and took me in after I defected.” 

Ratchet grumbled something unintelligibly angry under his breath before letting out a long sigh. “Well, at least they did a good job fixing you up. You’re good to go.” 

“Except that he’s not.” Prowl stepped back through the door. Kup was nowhere to be found. Prowl stepped up to Ratchet. “Kup may be fully accepting of having this _assassin_ in his team, but there’s a number of people out there who aren’t, and it’s probably best to keep Deadlock away from them for now. After all--” He didn’t finish his sentence because Ratchet had punched his jaw and sent him falling to the floor. 

“His. Name. Is. Drift.” Ratchet waved his hand from the impact of the punch. “We all deserve second chances.” He looked at Drift. “Annoying as that may be.” 

Prowl massaged his jaw. “Heh. Interesting. That’s a new one.” He got to his feet and started to leave. “I’ll be watching.” 

Wheeljack approached Drift and extended his hand. “Welcome to the Autobots. Enjoy your stay. It will never be boring.” 

Drift took it. 

* * *

Ratchet had very dim optics when Wheeljack finished. “I really don’t see what the point of that was.” 

“You’ve never punched Prowl, as much as he’s deserved it. He’s said worse things about better people, and you’ve screamed at him to set him straight, but you’ve never punched him to the floor. You have this soft spot for Drift, regardless of him being a homeless addict, a die-hard Decepticon, a stoic Autobot knight, or of his recent incarnation, what did you call him, a ‘tryhard spiritualist with annoying catch-phrases?’” 

“Yeah.” Ratchet looked out to where Dead End used to be. 

“Drift’s going to be a prominent figure on the _Lost Light,_ given that he’s pretty much attached at the hip with Rodimus. He’s not going to stop annoying you, and you’re not going to be able to avoid him. Ever since the war, you have struggled with trying to maintain any permanent friendship that wasn’t constantly in your office or in your medibay. So, do me a favor, Ratchet, as your best friend. Don’t just find a successor. Have fun and make friends out there! Start with Drift as you really need to settle the tension between you two.” 

Ratchet was quiet for a good long while. Finally, his chronometer beeped. “I need to get back to the ship to get my habsuite and the medibay set up.” They both got on their feet, and Ratchet gave Wheeljack a long tight embrace. “Thank you, Jackie, I’m going to miss you on this quest. You’ve always been a good friend, even when I haven’t. I’ll think about what you said.” 

“That’s all I ask. That, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

Ratchet chuckled. “I already do that.” 

It took awhile for Ratchet to get back to the _Lost Light._ Even so, he spotted it soon enough as it was one of the larger ships sitting on the ground. Having checked in with a normally paranoid Red Alert and claimed one of the better habsuites with windows, he drove over to the medibay. Unlocking it activated the lights, and he found himself genuinely impressed. Everything was sparkling clean and arranged in its logical location, and there were pieces of equipment in there he hadn’t seen for decades. The fabricators were state-of-the-art, and he spotted a few cryogenic regeneration chambers in another room. 

Ratchet was inspecting the supplies when he heard the door slide open. “Someone’s hurt already? That doesn’t bode well.” 

“Um, a little help here?” 

The voice sounded familiar. Too familiar. Ratchet turned around but was only able to see a form precariously balancing a bunch of supply boxes. “Oh, sorry.” Ratchet picked up the ones on top and revealed a smiling Drift. 

Ratchet screamed internally at Wheeljack. He set his stack down. “You can put those over here.” 

Drift set them down gently in the place Ratchet had indicated. He then slid out a data pad from beneath the stack and handed it to Ratchet. “Here’s the list of what you ordered with everything I was able to get checked off. I’m afraid I couldn’t get some of the items no matter what I offered.” 

Ratchet scanned the list and couldn’t help but smile. “You got everything we needed and more. Those other items were nice-to-haves, but I can work with this.” Ratchet looked up at Drift and hesitated. “Thank you.” 

Drift bowed his head slightly. “My pleasure. Do you want any help putting this away?” 

Ratchet sighed. “I guess the cabinets are labeled well enough.” 

Drift started putting things away, leaving the room silent for a few minutes. “So, I take it that by your greeting you don’t get many social calls in medibay?” 

“Hah! No. People only come in here if they’re hurt or if they have something to complain about.” 

“Well, that’s a shame.” Drift paused briefly. “Good thing I had already made it a point to visit you more often.” 

Ratchet stopped mid-stock and stared at Drift. “Why ever for?” 

Drift chuckled. “Come now, Ratchet. In all of four million years, I’ve only seen you a handful of times. I’d like to get to know you better seeing as how we are going to be working more closely together.” Drift put the last box in its place and shut the cabinet. “Besides, I know how it can get lonely when people only treat you as a means to an end.” 

Ratchet kept starting at him, dumbfounded. Drift was smiling, but Ratchet could see right through to the pained layer beneath and wondered if Drift was right about how both of them were at the top of their game but had to sacrifice nearly everything to get there. “Fine. Just don’t get in the way, and no proselytizing!” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it in a house of healing.” 

“A house of… _what_?” 

“Besides, spectralism is a very personal faith, and one of its central tenets is embracing the sanctity of others’ beliefs. To move forward, we must focus on our shared context to better celebrate our diversity, as each one of us is special in our own way.” 

Ratchet felt his internal temperature skyrocket and his fist clench. He almost jumped at his communicator beeping. 

“Trouble?” Drift asked. 

“Not sure. It’s Bumblebee asking me to report back to headquarters immediately.” 

Drift nodded. “I should continue my rounds anyway. The bulk of the crew will be arriving soon. Please let me know if you need anything.” He bowed his head slightly, turned around, and walked out the door. 

Ratchet funneled his fury into driving back to the ruins of Kimia. After he had calmed down, he mulled over the one thing that was still bothering him about the previous conversation. 

_Each one of us is special in our own way._

Had Drift meant to call back to their first interaction in the Dead End? What was underneath all of the flowery words and religious nonsense? He doubted anyone had gotten to know the real Drift, not even Rodimus if their recent interactions were anything to go by. Wheeljack had been right that the only way to address this issue was to face it head on, and Ratchet realized that he found the challenge to be irresistible. 

It just wasn’t going to be easy. 


End file.
